I was talking to a friend about writing, history, writing history, and was telling him about my latest diversion from the straight NaNoWriMo route (National Novel Writing Month – an online challenge to write 50,000 words of something new in November). I wrote her a couple of days ago that in my exercise in writing my life story and those I can remember of my family, I have used the device of following rivers. I have always lived near and been involved in things to do with various rivers, the Cam, the Granta, the Axe, the Mersey, the Bann, the Bush… I also mentioned that I have, deviated off into other stories – a skating accident, a drowning… gloomy stuff but real stories about real people.

The person who drowned was Edwin Hoskin Clogg, originally from Cornwall, who died not a mile from where I’m sitting, saving a young boy from Bristol from drowning. I was interested to know more about Edwin and discovered he was a conscientious objector in WWI; I was telling my friend, the historian and author, Andrew Simpson about this, and he had some great suggestions about where and how I could find out more about pacifists in the “Great” War.

I messaged him to thank him for some things he had sent me:

L: Oh thank you!! Isn’t it great how we are taken on journeys we never realised we had tickets for?!
A: Just as long as there is a return!
L: Oh heck… that could be a whole different new fantasy novel for me… the researcher who never came back, lost in the annals and archives!

I’ve been reflecting on how true that is – about the journeys we take as writers and how we never know where we, and also, we hope, our readers will end up!